


Cursive Claims You've Yet to Make

by APgeeksout



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Rarewomen Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LanFan has never been good at being defenseless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursive Claims You've Yet to Make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elviella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elviella/gifts).



> Set during manga Ch. 49. Title snagged from Hey Rosetta!'s "Bandages."

Inhuman groans and hisses of ignition rend the night air, punctuated by gunfire, and the low rumble of concussion waves that roll toward them from out of the forest, shaking the unwholesome ground of Amestris beneath her already-unsteady feet. 

They are in terrible danger. Her prince is in terrible danger. 

She should be re-entering this fight: eliminating the things that would harm her prince, and with him, the hopes of her clan. Instead, she finds herself literally swept off her feet - Can this be what would-be suitors imagine when they sigh after the prince? This infuriating ragdoll dependence and newborn kitten weakness? - and bundled into the backseat of a vehicle with the physician at the wheel. Prince Ling settles her gently on the upholstery, as though she were something precious, and not a tool no longer fit for its purpose.

“Prince,” she says, and grasps a handful of his coat in the trembling fingers of her remaining hand. She is unsure how she meant to continue: A demand to be allowed stay and fight? She will only endanger her allies in her current condition. A prayer for him to flee at her side? He would not comply. Would not be the prince she knows if he did. 

His hands move up to cover hers, cool against her feverish skin as he curls his fingers over her shaky fist. His other hand circles her wrist, and she suddenly feels very delicate. The sensation is frustrating and gratifying all at once, and she has no time to take her reaction apart before he disentangles her fingers from the fabric of his coat and presses her hand gently against her own chest. 

“I know, LanFan. I'll watch out for myself until you're with me again.” He pulls the coat draped about her more snugly around her shoulders. 

Dull pain echoes through her at the pressure on her wound. She fights to keep it from registering on her face, and longs for the mask that would hide her weakness and inappropriate and conflicted emotions. The smooth surface reliably projects only the lethal precision and stoic devotion that befits a guardian of the Yao heir. Even when the girl underneath is shaken and falling well short of her duty. 

He hurriedly releases the coat and grazes her too-expressive face with hesitant fingers. “And _you_ will let yourself heal. When I return to you, it'll be with the secret to immortality and the key to a happy future.”

“Make it a promise.” She has no right to make such a demand of the prince or to expect him to consent, yet the words spill out before she can deliberate on them or remind herself of her role. She has given an arm to this fight, and finds that she is not prepared to sacrifice more. 

“I promise you everything.” The prince gives her wrist a final squeeze and withdraws from the vehicle, to be replaced by the leiutenant. With an efficient nudge, the leiutenant brings LanFan's heavy head to rest in her lap. 

Lt. Hawkeye has already proven herself to be a capable medic who does not pet or fawn over the injured. If she is to be assigned a guardian, then LanFan is glad that it is Hawkeye who has drawn the job. She does spare a moment to wish that this sharpshooter were instead remaining to fight at her prince's side, but she senses that the alchemist, hunched in the front seat and growling at the doctor, is in some way Hawkeye's prince, and she can only respect that. 

And it seems that at least one of Hawkeye's weapons will stay behind, along with the imperfectly immortal suit of armor and the fierce boy who has also given a piece of himself for duty or love or both. Until the time she can wield her own limb of steel, she will have to trust these brothers to assist her prince. 

She already trusts that the prince means to return to her, as he said. The people of Xing keep their promises. 

As she is shuttled away from the scene of engagement with the enemy, slipping from consciousness and unable to defend her prince or herself or any of their people, the best and only thing she can do is believe in this. In a future they will make, when this night will be a long-ago story that the children of the Yao clan - well-fed, happy and safe, every one of them - repeat in awed whispers as the Imperial caravan passes by.


End file.
